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  All my senses explode at this new kind of touch. I have never let anybody touch me there, and before tonight I never could have imagined myself offering up my ass like this. I have to work hard not to orgasm instantly.

  “To the mirror, mon petit chou.”

  Across from the bed is a full length, gilt-framed mirror. My nerves are getting the better of me.

  “I…,” I start, but I don't know how to finish it.

  “What is wrong, my darling?”

  “I’ve never looked at myself totally naked in front of a mirror before. I usually avoid them.”

  Fabian trails kisses from my shoulder all the way up to the nape of my neck. “Then allow me to look with you and show you what I see.”

  I’m still nervous, but I agree. He stands me in front of the mirror, his hands framing my shoulders.

  “Look at yourself while I touch you and tell you a few things,” he says.

  I relax against his firm chest behind me, while his arm reaches around to hold my waist. Kissing my shoulders, he says, “Look at your long, beautiful legs. They help you run, do yoga, and pretty soon they’re going to be wrapped around me while I fuck you with my tongue.”

  The image causes my nipples to tighten in response.

  “And,” he continues, “look at your breasts. So large and plump and tempting.”

  Watching him reach around with both hands to wrap me up, holding my right tit with his left hand and my left tit with his right, is about the most erotic experience of my life. I feel myself giving in to what he sees. My mind has been so under the control of what I think I should look like that I never tried to look at myself through the eyes of someone who cares.

  “Tell me,” he says, rolling my nipples between his fingers, “do you touch yourself like this? Do you toy with your whole body when you pleasure yourself?”

  “Yes, just not in the mirror.”

  “While I’m massaging your breasts, let me watch you touch your clit.”

  My heart is hammering. I can’t believe this is happening. I widen my stance, then reach down and use one hand to spread open my lower lips while the other finds my clit. In the mirror, my cheeks burn bright red, my lips are swollen, and my eyes are glazed over with lust. I have never come twice in one night, never thought it was possible until now. I do as he says and rub circles around my clit while he presses his hard cock into my lower back.

  “So sexy, ma tigresse.”

  All I can do is moan and pant, need burning me up inside.

  “Are you ready to do what I want you to do next, my darling?”

  My legs tremble. I’ll do absolutely anything this man says. Anything.

  Chapter 5

  Hugo

  “Turn to the side and watch me in the mirror.”

  My Laney does as I say, and I give her breasts one last caress with my palms before kneeling down behind her. “Spread for me,” I instruct her. “Spread for me and keep your hands on your breasts.”

  She’s such a good listener. As soon as she spreads I reach my hand through and cup her pussy, fitting my fingers between her folds and covering my hand with her juices. I worship her ass cheeks with my lips, teeth and tongue while I explore her pussy with one hand and caress the soft skin on the back of her thighs with the other.

  “You’re making me weak. What if I fall? What if my knees give out?”

  Between deep, wet kisses, I rumble, “Then I’ll die a happy man with my face in your ass.”

  The exaggeration seems to turn her on even more, and I feel her swollen clit bumping against my fingers.

  “I don’t want you to die, not even of happiness,” she says.

  Because I am the most dastardly fellow, I give her no choice in the matter. “My life, my choice,” I say as I move my hand around her hip to massage her clit with my dominant hand. With two fingers of my other hand, I enter her hot, wet passage as I kiss and lick my way, ever so gradually, down the split of her backside.

  “Eyes in the mirror, my flower,” I say. The intense eye contact in the mirror while I work my way lower and lower with my mouth is causing my erection to be downright painful. “Look at you. Look at this ass. I’ve wanted to own this juicy peach since the moment I saw you. And now, for tonight, it’s mine.”

  She sucks in a breath when I plunge my tongue into her tightness and taste her perfection. Everything about her is so tight, and so wet, and so sweet, I can hardly stand it.

  As my ministrations continue, I want to fill up all her senses with how intensely gorgeous she is. She needs to know how hungry she can make a man.

  Her knees do indeed give out when her next release hits her.

  “Oh my god,” she moans, long and loud as all of her weight falls against me. I catch her with one arm, holding her up while she comes around my fingers still buried inside her.

  She squeaks out my name and all manner of curses while she pulses out her orgasm. I stand up and keep hold of her from behind while she rides it out.

  A lazy smile crosses her face. “That was...”

  “I’m not finished with you, my love.” I gently turn her around to face me, reaching my hand down to cup her womanhood again, this time sinking one finger into her while my lips speak filthy things into her ear again.

  I tell her about what she tastes like.

  “You taste like sweet summer melons, only you're ten times as juicy. You’re juicy for me, aren’t you? You wanted to be a bad girl. Did you get what you want?”

  “No,” she whispers weakly, while still maintaining a smile.

  “No? My love, what is it you want?”

  “I wanna make you come all over me,” she whispers through gritted teeth, grasping the aching bulge in my pants.

  Her touch is almost too much to resist, but I rasp, “You’ll get to soon, but not yet.” I feel her getting wetter and wetter again as I continue squeezing and exploring inside her channel. At the right moment, my fingers make a “come here” motion, which causes an even more intense explosion in her.

  The next string of curses that come out of her make me think she’s not nearly the good girl she pretends to be.

  Chapter 6

  Laney

  I am barely aware of where I am or what my name is anymore.

  All I know is Fabian’s got me.

  And my god, he blessed me with multiple orgasms.

  I’m in the shower and Fabian is brushing his teeth and gargling. I blush when I realize why. I can’t believe I let him do that; yet very classy of him to take care of himself before kissing me again.

  But oh, he does. Pretty soon, we’re in the shower together and I finally get a good look at his body. His tanned body is even better than what I imagined. Wide chest, narrow hips, all of it tan like he must spend time outdoors naked. I look down, amazed he’s still erect.

  “How are you keeping it up for so long?” I ask.

  “A gentleman never tells,” he replies. “But I promise it’s not Viagra.”

  “May I touch it?” I say.

  “I wish that you would,” he replies. His fingers tug loose my bun and he fists his fingers in my hair while I circle my fingers around his shaft.

  “Ungh.” The caveman noises he makes are such a turn on, and I can’t believe it’s even possible for me to get turned after coming three times. He lets go of my hair and stabilizes himself with his forearms pressed against the shower tile on either side of my head. I have become addicted to his kisses.

  His cock in my hand is thick and girthy, hot and pulsating, and I want to make him feel just as wonderful as he has made me feel. Using the water as lube, I grip it tight and give it a good pump, then look up into his face for approval.

  His jaw ripples and he sucks in a breath. “My god, we’re going to have so much fun tonight.”

  For several long, delicious minutes, I alternate hard pumps with teasing fingertips, stroking him from his base to the tip, while teasing his mouth and his skin with my teeth and tongue. As he’s about to explode, he abrupt
ly presses his hips into mine, giving me no choice but to reach around and hold him against me, my hands squeezing his firm, beautiful ass. With one more thrust in the hot, wet friction, his climax erupts between us as he curses in French, whispers my name, and releases a long, satisfied moan against my neck.

  The night proceeds with one exploration after another, in almost every room of the suite. I’ve never had this much fun in my entire life. We have some special fun in the jacuzzi, which is a sentence I feel like a lot of people have said before. Fabian has me hold on to the edges and tells me to let my body float. The clever boy puts his mouth on my pussy, licking me and kissing me, to bring me back up to yet another heated orgasm, the likes of which I never thought possible.

  Later, in the bed, both of us naked and damp, we kiss and kiss some more. I love that he can keep kissing me and never seems to get tired of it. Soon, he cradles me in his arms as we drift off to sleep and I’m grateful that he turns down my offer to call myself a cab. “I don't have to sleep here if you’d rather I didn’t,” I say.

  “My little petal, I will always have room for you in my bed. Now sleep.”

  I don’t tell him that nobody has ever called me “little” before. It’s a sweet thought that I keep locked up in my heart.

  I fall asleep in his golden arms, his kisses gentle on my bare shoulder, his stubble and tousled hair tickling my skin.

  I want nothing more than to stay awake and talk to him all night. I try, I really do. But I’m so thoroughly fucked, so spent, so deliciously worn out, my brain and my body force me to shut down for those few precious hours.

  It’s the happiest, best sleep of my life.

  Chapter 7

  Hugo

  A sane man would have never allowed himself a one night stand,

  I hated to leave her.

  But I had to.

  I am a shameful, terrible person.

  A flower and a note? What kind of a cad makes such intense love to a woman and leaves her with a flower and a note, and no hope of ever contacting her again?

  I am hauled away in handcuffs and tossed into the back of an FBI van. As we drive away to my destiny, I think I see her in the distance, enjoying breakfast with her friends and her found family.

  I hope someday, someone can give her a family of her own, and be there to raise children with her. God knows it won’t be me. It can’t be me. Even if I ever get released from prison, I was not made for that life.

  Chapter 8

  Laney

  I’m sipping my juice at the hotel breakfast buffet when I notice the police cars pull up to the marina. Stella cranes her neck to see what’s going on.

  “Someone’s getting dragged away in handcuffs,” she says.

  I squint, but I can’t see who it is. It’s a huge marina and it could be anything.

  Besides, I’m too busy looking at the tiger lily that Fabian left on my pillow with the note. The note, which I’ve stuffed into my pocket, contained the most elegant penmanship of anyone I’ve ever met.

  Whatever happens, I do hope our paths cross again one day. And if they don’t, we’ll always have this memory. You gave me the best night of my life, and I will always treasure you, Laney, my jewel.

  Cynthia points her fork at the flower that rests on the table next to my plate. Her forkful of waffle drips syrup on the table. Stella clucks at her and helps her dab it off the linen tablecloth.

  “Where did you get that flower, Auntie Laney?”

  I smile at the curious little girl and her sister and tell them the truth. “My date gave it to me last night.”

  The two girls’ jaws drop and their eyes pop widely at me. “You had a date?” they say in unison.

  I laugh. “Yes I did. And he was a perfect gentleman.”

  The little one turns to face Luke. “Daddy, I want to go on a date, too!”

  Luke nearly chokes on his bacon and I have to put down my juice before I blow it out my nose with laughter.

  “No dates until you’re 30,” he declares.

  “But you were in your twenties when you met Mommy,” Cynthia chirps in.

  “Eat your breakfast, smarty pants,” Stella says.

  A wicked grin threatens to give me away and I have to stare into my lap and bite my lip. I can still feel his fingers and tongue inside me, still feel Fabian’s movements inside my body, filling me. My muscles are still sore, but if he wanted one more taste of me before he left today, I would be down for it.

  I could see myself falling in love with this man. Marrying him. Having his charming little babies and basking on the beach in the south of France every summer.

  God, he was perfect. So perfect that, looking back, he hardly seems real.

  Chapter 9

  Laney

  Back home in California, I’m still on such a vacation high and I don’t want to lose it, so I’m not ready to unpack yet. I open my suitcase to let it air out and then I go lie down on the sofa and turn on the TV.

  Streaming or live?

  I’m not ready for reality yet, so I stream my favorite romantic comedy. I snuggle up with my favorite blanket and pillow and let out a sigh. It’s been nearly sixteen hours since I saw the man; how is it possible I can still literally feel him every time I move? God almighty.

  I’m about to drift off into a happy dreamland where I’m lying in bed with Fabian again, this time on a boat somewhere in the middle of the ocean, when my phone rings. I normally don't pick up phone calls, except it’s Stella’s ringtone. When Stella calls instead of texts, I know it’s pretty damn important.

  “Turn on the news.”

  Stella is truly scary when she dispenses with small talk.

  “What channel?”

  “Any and all of them. This is nuts.”

  “Stella, I’m watching. I don't know what the big ... wait a minute...”

  The image from my TV slams into me with the force of a Mack truck.

  “The art dealer guy, right?”

  I don't say anything. Stella persists.

  “Laney, did you hear me? Isn’t that...?”

  “Holy fucking shit,” I say, even though my throat feels like it’s on fire.

  “It is him. I knew it. Dammit, I knew Luke should have let me run a background check before you agreed to go on a date with him,” Stella says.

  She goes on and continues to verbally kick herself but I can barely hear it. My body begins to shake. This can’t be real.

  On the news is a story about an international art dealer who has risen to fame for cutting deals that earn sellers unprecedented millions. But he’s run into trouble with the law by scheming with brokers to sell pieces at highly inflated prices, with him and the brokers pocketing the difference.

  I don’t understand all the details. I’m focusing on the fact that his name is not Fabian Faberge, but Hugo Westphall.

  I had the best night of my fucking life with someone who gave me a fake name, which I suspected all along, but who was also a big time criminal, maybe the biggest fraudster the art world has ever seen.

  I can’t wrap my head around it. I watch as they haul him away in handcuffs, over and over, on every channel. It’s definitely him. The tousled hair, the tall frame, the sinewy forearms. Wearing a polo and khakis and boat shoes, as if he was getting ready for a casual day on the water and not running for his life.

  Fuck. Me.

  Talk about a come down after a vacation.

  Guess the only thing to do now is unpack.

  Chapter 10

  Hugo

  The sharp rap of the judge’s gavel seals my fate. For the next two years, I will pay the price for what I’ve done, having defrauded millions of dollars from billionaires all over the world.

  It is less time behind bars than what I deserve.

  As the guards take me away, my head bowed in shame, I reflect on the fact that I could have escaped if it hadn’t been for her. I could be with my grand-mère by now, hiding out from the authorities for at least another couple of years before
anyone caught up with me. But it’s better this way.

  I laugh when they cart me off to my prison cell.

  What is a measly two years for everything I’ve done? Two years is nothing for the money I’ve stolen. Two years behind bars is too lenient for my crimes, and a small price to pay for one night with Laney.

  Chapter 11

  Laney

  Boy, when I blow up my social and emotional life, I really know how to do a number on it.

  For the next week at work, I stare out the window of my office at the spa, wondering what the hell I’m going to do. After seeing Fabian’s face on the news—and finding out his real name is Hugo Westphall, wunderkind art dealer turned mastermind scam artist—I am barely able to eat, sleep or work.

  My conscience told me I was not equipped to handle a one night stand. My heart told me the same thing. My body betrayed me. That man ensnared me for one night, but left me destroyed.

  For a brief moment, I thought there was something. I thought for sure he would reach out some time in the coming months. The way he acted, there was no way he wasn’t into me. I felt certain he felt what I felt. The connection was instantaneous, undeniable. I could see myself falling for this man, and I saw the same in him.

  For all his charms, he had a hidden realness in his eyes whenever he looked at me that broke my heart right open.

  I could love that man, I had told myself in the twenty-four hours between him leaving me satisfied and feeling safe, and the news blowing up my entire world.

  Well, not my entire world. I still have Stella.

  “I’m not up for lunch,” I say when her silhouette appears in my office door frame while I’m staring out the window.

  “I didn’t ask you to go to lunch. I ordered lunch in, and you are going to eat something.”